Greater New Orleans

Orleans Parish Sheriff Marlin Gusman talks with the media at the corner of Perdido and S. Dupre Streets about his testimony earlier in day by lawyers and and U.S. District Judge Lance Africk at federal court about conditions at the city's jail facility and about an explosive video revealed showing inmates on the loose on Bourbon Street, and others behind bars drinking beer, unloading a handgun and smoking and injecting drugs Thursday, April 4, 2013. The sheriff's testimony is expected to mark the dramatic high point of a legal battle between Mayor Mitch Landrieu and the three parties who agreed to the jail reform deal in December: Gusman, the feds and inmate advocates for the Southern Poverty Law Center. (Photo by David Grunfeld, Nola.com |The Times-Picayune)

There has long existed a great tension in this city between what's good for the black elite and what's good for the black masses. The truth is there is no single black community, and there might not be any issue, except perhaps the abolition of racism, around which everybody unites.

The struggle for control of Orleans Parish Prison throws a spotlight on that tension. It would be good for Marlin Gusman, the black man who's in charge of that prison, if he's allowed to continue running the jail as he sees fit. But what about the overwhelming black population held in the prison? Would Gusman's continued stewardship be good for them?

Though the sheriff has consistently downplayed the problems there, outside observers say Orleans Parish Prison is the nation's worst. If it is the hell-hole that's been described, then it is black people, for the most part, who are trapped in perdition. But who cares about them, right? They're criminals.

Whether we're black or white, we generally don't lose sleep over reported mistreatment of the incarcerated. We maintain this nonchalance even if the horrible conditions are at those jails where people are confined before trial. If we're going to not care about prisoners, we ought to at least reserve our indifference for those who've been found guilty. It's hard to jibe an innocent-till-proven-guilty jurisprudence with the they-had-it-coming shrug we make at reports of suicides, assaults and rapes.

On the other hand, black people do generally care about the prevalence and success of black elected officials, if only because they've existed for such a short time in national, state and local history. The situation that exists now in New Orleans - a white mayor, a white district attorney, a majority white City Council, a majority-black School Board largely stripped of power - would have been unfathomable before Hurricane Katrina. And yet, here we are, with Gusman as one of the last black folks standing in a city that feels like it is slowly being drained of black political strength.

Even before the sheriff made his recent comments suggesting that racism may be playing a role in the criticism of his management of the jail, there were already some black people who were expressing anger at Mayor Mitch Landrieu's role in publicly embarrassing Gusman. The morning after the videotape was broadcast showing inmates shooting heroin, snorting cocaine, guzzling beer and brandishing a handgun, a caller to WBOK-AM said the video was reason enough to get rid of Landrieu. Another caller was making the same point that afternoon. Landrieu has said that video argues for Gusman's removal. So there was the argument on the radio that black folks should work to remove Landrieu.

It is in this context that the sheriff made his comments to the New Orleans Tribune, a black-owned newspaper. "The only way I could explain how someone would question my leadership, my ability, has to be because they have a different agenda. They have to be looking at something different than just the record. And maybe they're looking at the person who's there. Maybe they're looking at ... they don't like the way that person looks. So -- maybe that's what it's about. I'm not sure ..."

The lawsuit against the Orleans Parish Sheriff's Office was brought by the Southern Poverty Law Center, an organization known not for advancing racism but for combating it. Read the history of the law center on its website: "dedicated to fighting hate and bigotry, and to seeking justice for the most vulnerable members of society," "founded to ensure that the promises of the civil rights movement became a reality for all." Then there's this: "Our lawsuits have toppled institutional racism in the South, bankrupted some of the nation's most violent white supremacist groups and won justice for exploited workers, abused prison inmates, disabled children and other victims of discrimination."

Gusman is an accomplished man, but I don't think he can say that he's waged a war against racism like the SPLC has. There may be racists among the many clamoring for Gusman's departure. There may be folks who want Gusman gone who don't care at all about the prisoners he keeps. But the people who brought suit against the jail - and thus, have questioned his leadership and ability in court - have a strong record of civil rights advocacy and expressed concern for the imprisoned. His criticism of them just doesn't stick.

Despite our tendency to ignore the plight of the incarcerated and despite our tendency to circle the wagons around threatened black officials, this would be a good time to ask who's more deserving of our advocacy. Marlin Gusman will be OK even if he's removed as sheriff. But will people in his jail be OK if he stays in power?